Those assholes know how old I am

So I got this magazine in the mail yesterday. More is a lovely scented glossy, it is also for women over 40 [not that there is anything wrong with that]. When I got it in the mail I thought, those son-of-a-bitch bastards at Conde Nast [or whoever publishes] knows how old I am and they are preparing me.

I am a marketers dream I fill out all those crappy cards and on-line marketing questionnaires. I answer truthfully [I have friends that f*uck with them] because I too am in the world of advertising/marketing and that stuff helps. So these people know that next month I turn 39. Granted a hot 39 but still as one of my friends said "we're women of a certain age" I made her take that comment back because it's just difficult to think of myself like that. I feel like I'm 25.

So the people at More sent me this trial offer, the "hey we know you're getting up there, we just thought we'd prep you for what is to come issue" I was impressed they sent me the full issue and not a teaser. The magazine is good and I have read it before at the doctors office etc. So, what-the-f*ck...I'll read it, it's free.

So I got over being bitter and jaded about the whole thing and ripped into the package, and when I did so I realized the issue actually belonged to my hot 50 year old neighbor and not me.

Hallelujah! I can still pretend for just a little bit longer that I'm not really "A woman of a certain age"